


Hiding in plain sight

by Amlia



Series: Natural Selection [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adorable Newt Scamander, BAMF Newt Scamander, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Lives, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, LITERALLY, M/M, Newt is having none of Dumbledore's shit, Newt saves animals and humans alike, Non-Graphic Violence, Nundus, Pickett's origins, Portkey, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Smitten Original Percival Graves, The Blue Coat, The suitcase, dragon - Freeform, even himself, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlia/pseuds/Amlia
Summary: Who would have thought that studying animals would prepare one for defeating a dark wizard? Oh, and falling in love.





	Hiding in plain sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaTak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaTak/gifts).



> Well, here it is. Basically 13k of Newt being bamf and sweet as honey while doing what he loves most.

Let it never be said Newt isn’t overzealous in his creatures’ care.

 

Every day he attends to all his beasts’ needs: food, water, medical attention, development necessities and, of course, emotional support.

 

Newt met many supposed experts, both muggles and wizards, that vehemently declared that animals didn’t have enough complex mental aptitudes that feelings demanded and had but very base lizard brains fueled by instinct and basic needs.

 

The magizoologist begged to differ.

 

Not just every creature in his care was emotionally aware, but most had better understanding of feeling than humans Newt had met. Obviously, there were beasts and beasts.

 

“Come on,” he tried to reason with the baby occamy. “You know that is not yours,” he gently admonished as the winged serpent just coiled tighter around the tree branch meant for the bowtruckles.

 

Said bowtruckles had taken temporary residency on the magizoologist’s shoulders, much to Pickett’s jealousy.

 

“You have a very warm and comfortable nest with your siblings,” he said invitingly. The occamy lazily blinked at him and clicked her beak once. The ginger sighed disheartened. He would have to resort to other methods.

 

The bowtruckles squeaked at him and pulled at his hair and ears as he moved away from the tree. They sounded affronted by their rude expulsion, but distinctively betrayed by Newt’s apparent retreat.   

 

“Hush you now,” he calmed the green insects. Most fell silent, Pickett still grumbling from somewhere around his breast pocket. “We have to be smarter to solve this situation,” he lectured, some leafed heads bobbing to his wise tone. Most wizard in his situation would have either magicked the occamy out of the tree or just transfigured another one for the bowtruckles.

 

Newt wasn’t like other people, and understood that the green beasts were extremely attached to their home, rarely changing trees save dire situations. He also understood occamys’ need to explore and establish their territory as they grew. Just not on another creature’s property.

 

The magizoologist collected a jar with crunchy insects and a teapot.

 

o.O.o

Pickett was rescued from illegal animal traffickers in the Amazonian rainforest.

 

Newt had been traveling by boat through the thousands rivers that spalmed the extension of the forest, eyes wide open and enchanted. From the mysterious fishes that swam the darkened waters to the most colorful birds that littered the skies, the wizard took it in with his heart and soul.

 

The recent diminished latex muggle economy had created a  lack of wealth that attracted other forms of activity not nearly as beginous as sap’s harvesting. Not just muggles had resorted to other forms of intake, like cutting trees down, but the wizard community had too.

 

So, Newt might have told his brother he was to study rare forms of amphibians’ reproduction - which was true, and he fully intended to register the female frog ingest the male’s semen and witness the internal fecundation - but his main concern was to stop a main operation that sends rare endemic species to illegal poachers in Europe and Asia.

 

o.O.o

 

The bowtruckles happily climbed back their recently occamy-free tree, waving at Newt with their thin limbs with gracious arcs that made the wizard laugh delighted.

 

He turned to the leafed creature in his lapel.

 

“Are you joining them today?” He asks with little hope, but not ready to give up. Pickett shows him his tongue rudely, hiding from view. “I guess not,” Newt murmurs with  found exasperation. “At least say bye to them,” he requests as some bowtruckles still sway their leaves, waiting for Pickett’s reponse.

 

He grumbly puts half his face out of the coat’s protection and clumsily shakes an arm. He doesn’t even make eye contact, but the others seem content enough, turning back to their routine.

 

Newt counts it a small victory.

 

Beast and wizard return to the cabin. The man still has some chapters to be edited. He has just seated and gathered his notes when someone knocks on his case.

 

He exchanges a look with Pickett. The beast shrugs, feigning disinterest.

 

“Coming!” He shouts up the stairs.

 

o.O.o

 

The bowtruckle was inside a vine cage, no padlocks to be picked. He was dealing with professionals then.

 

Newt approached it carefully, using the cover of night and muffling spells to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

“Hello there” he whispered with a smile. It was a young male, green leaves fully developed, he seemed in good health. Recently captured, then. Uncommon, since bowtruckles were originated from Europe.

 

Newt tried a couple of unlocking spells, but those failed. He just slashed the cage, mindful of the life inside.

 

“Come on” he slowly offered and arm, knowing the bowtruckle might just flee. The insect looked from the arm to Newt's eyes.

 

He jumped to the ground, running until disappearing behind a tree.

 

Unperturbed, Newt slithered around the camp, carefully checking each cage and crate. Unlike the bowtruckle, there were some animals he couldn’t just release, some beasts being prone to causing great raucous, jeopardizing the mission.

 

The wizard was attempting to open a box tightly spelled shut - by the noise from inside, he bet it was some sort of New World bird, but couldn't place it's cry- when a sudden curse caught him completely unprepared.

 

He looked up from the ground, immobilized but for his eyes, at his capturer.

 

“Gringo incherido,” had been the unknown words gritted out. Portuguese, probably.

 

On the trafficker's shoulder, the bowtruckle showed Newt his tongue.

 

At least he had hidden well enough his case.

 

….

 

The trafficker have been at it for some time now.

 

Newt sat bound in chains, wandless, creatureless and, most importantly, coatless. The amazonian heat and humidity were remarkable, but nothing that some drying and cooling charms wouldn't fix so he could wear his favorite overcoat.

 

The men kept grunting and pointing in his direction, clearly discussing his eminent destiny. The wizard could speak neither portuguese nor spanish, but understood enough to know to be completely screwed.

 

Newt sighed sadly as he laid eyes upon the bowtruckle, still perched on the first man's shoulder. The insect, as if feeling his gaze, turned to Newt.

 

The beast quickly looked away, moving across the man's shoulder blades to get to the other side.

 

The trafficker reacted immediately.

 

“Ai!” He exclaimed, doubtlessly feeling discomfort as the bowtruckle’s sharp legs anchored in his skin. The man grabbed the beast ungently, bringing him to eye level with annoyance and uncovered disgust. “Bicho-pau do caramba!” He shook the insect, that squeaked fearfully, but still, to Newt’s astonishment, hugged the man’s thumb as if a life saver.

 

“Deja esto!” The second man exasperatedly said, apparently witnessing a recurring act. “Tenemos que hacer algo com el gringo!” He pointed at Newt again, his tone escalating. The first man gave him no mind, trying to pry the beast from his hand. The bowtruckle refused to let go.  

 

The magizoologist was aware that bowtruckles could grip and carry things twenty times their own weight, having specialized hook like structures that made them virtually impossible to move without careful straction.

 

The man kept tugging at the insect, only his own pain of having his skin pulled preventing him from tearing the beast away, possibly damaging his hooks, if not ripping the creature’s arms off.

 

The bowtruckle was now screeching, distress evident not for the rough treatment, Newt realised appalled, but for the eminent separation. Whatever the reason, the beast was prepared to give up his own arms not to be away from his abuser.

 

“Stop!” Newt commanded the man, steel hardening his voice as he made rare eye contact.

 

Silence fell on the camp. Even the bowtruckle had quietened, since the man had stopped pulling him. Newt was relatively confident that the traffickers spoke english, dealing with international business and all, but even if they didn’t, his tone and glare would have been enough to pass the message.

 

“He likes you enough to return after being set free, even though you just shout at him and treat him unkindly!” He accused, rage burning in his chest as sadness crept at his eyes.

 

The curse caught him prepared, but there was nothing he could do. He felt a cut open his cheek, warm blood tickling down like tear tracks. The wizard did not flinch.

 

“Shut it!” The man with the bowtruckle demanded, accent thick. At least he had let go of the insect to grab his wand. “You have bigger problems than a stupid animal, gringo!” He turned to his companion, exchanging rapid words, the other nodding solemnly.

 

The bowtruckle stared at the magizoologist.

 

Newt stared back.

 

o.O.o

 

“A beast, you say?” Newt asked, intrigued, kneeling before the fireplace.

 

“Or several,” Tina added. “We are not sure. No one could identify the marks on the bodies.” She explained with a grim expression, then turning sheepshilly. “We hoped you could help us”.

 

“Of course,” he exclaimed eagerly, grinning brilliantly. His smile diminished as Pickett squeaked from his shoulder. “Oh, you are right, Pickett,” the wizard turned to his friend again, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just…” He hesitated briefly, “the madam President asked me not to return in at least a year, and I am sure my permits are not up to date…” He divaged sadly, quickly bringing his eyes up, then looking away again. “And I still don’t have a copy of my book to gift you,” he murmured, blushing slightly.

 

Tina bit her lip, and Newt had the impression she was holding laughter. He was used to people cruelly mocking him, but the auror’s mirth carried a warm and affectionate impression that made him feel happy.

 

“She has already approved,” Tina assured, after cleaning her throat. “The President and the Director both thought we were in need of your expertise”. She paused, worrying her lip again, not to repress amusement, but in concern. “The creatures in the suitcase could be a problem, though…” She raised a hand quickly as the magizoologist prepared to jump in his beasts defense. “The _bureaucracy_ for your animals could be a problem,” she reiterated.

 

Both were silent for a few instants, trying to solve the situation.

 

“Maybe…” Tina faltered, biting her nail. “We could talk to Director Graves and see if could help us approve your creatures, or... Something,” she finished lamely, as if regretting her suggestion immediately.

 

“Brilliant!” Newt beamed, unaware of his friend’s concern. “I have yet to meet Mr. Graves, but I’m sure we can convince him”.

 

Tina did not respond, giving a strained smile. “We will see”.

 

They discussed the rest of the arrangements and parted with friendly goodbyes. Newt stood up, stretching the kinks in his back and knees, chuckling when Pickett copied the gesture. He ran a finger over a leaf gently, and the bowtruckle glowed under the attention.

 

“Let’s get ready,” he said, cheerfully. “We are going to New York”.

 

Pickett blew a raspberry.

 

….

 

Arriving by portkey was much more pleasantly than traveling weeks by ship. Especially if he was deposited directly in MACUSA’s main entrance.

 

Queenie immediately located him, having waited for his arrival with a ready smile and a warm hug.

 

“Newt,” she sang, as he returned the embrace. “Oh, honey, so good to see you!” The wizard nodded as she let go and they made to the elevator, to meet Tina and her boss.

 

The magizoologist felt confident about the meeting with the Director, although the hesitation Tina had expressed was not completely lost on him. He was particularly aware how sting authorities could be about exotic and “dangerous” beasts.

 

Queenie threw him a glance that spoke of her thoughts on his use of commas. He shrugged with eyes downcast.

 

They passed in silence the busy wizards and witches that littered the building, Newt sometimes bumping into people for walking with his eyes downward, muttering apologies at empty air as the person would have already walked off. Such lack of attention suited him just fine.

 

It was when he was recognised and people stared and whispered that bothered him.

 

Queenie discreetly touched his elbow, and he didn’t have it in him to caluje her invasion of privacy.

 

They passed another room filled with desks and people, one of those was Tina, who immediately located her sister and Newt’s blue coat. They also embraced warmly, the wizard casting shy glances from under his fringe.

 

“Well,” the auror spoke with business finality, “let’s go meet the boss to sort this one out,” she teased, looking meaningfully at the cord-closed suitcase.

 

The trio walked in polite conversation, catching up with each other’s in a most superficial manner. There would be time for more in depth details later, away from MACUSA’s rigid parameters.

 

Soon, they approached forbidding double doors. Tina tensed slightly besides Newt as they heard a loud voice from the office, in rant that sounded like a serious dressing down.

 

“I will leave you to him, then,” Queenie, the traitor, cheerfully said, turning on her heels and walking off with a wave.

 

Tina hesitated an instant before knocking on the door. Newt took a fortifying breath, gently lying his hand over his breast pocket, feeling Pickett still hidden.

 

The doors burst open, and a tear strained wizard runs past Newt and Tina.

 

“What is it, Goldstein?” The man behind the desk does not even raise his eyes from the report as they enter the room, at ease as if he hadn’t been the reason a grown up auror wizard had broken down.

 

Newt takes in the man’s appearance as Tina begins to explain her visit.

 

Grindelwald had been exact in his imitation to the single strands of hair, as polyjuice was bound to be. The heavy shoulders and tired expression, though, spoke of worries the fanatic wouldn’t have dreamed of having. The eyes, though cold by the job's necessity, showed no cruelty.

 

The magizoologist immediately felt sympathy for the man. He understood quite well the damages incarceration could do.

 

“Newt!” Tina’s hushed voice suddenly called him, accompanied by an elbow in the ribs.

 

Mr. Graves looked at him in expectation, irritation shining frigid in his eyes, lips twisted in a strange emotion Newt couldn’t place. Had he owned a pair of long ears or a tail, the magizoologist would have been able to know exactly what to do in this situation.

 

“So… Mr. Scamander,” the Director nodded, lazily indicating the chair in front of him. “Let’s see what you have to say about these incidents”.

 

Newt sat down gingerly, laying his suitcase at his feet and adjusting his coat. He didn’t see Tina’s hesitant move, as if to keep him standing, nor Graves’s warning gaze in her direction. “Thank you, auror Goldstein,” the Director dismissed, eyes already turned to the wizard.

 

Newt glanced briefly at her, smiling to put her concerned expression at ease. She quickly left after stalling too long and drawing Graves’ scowl.

 

“Terribly sorry,” the magizoologist said to the man’s shoulder, offering his hand. “Newt Scamander, a pleasure making your acquaintance”. A few seconds passed, and his hand hovered, awkwardly.

 

Newt slowly brought his hand to his lap, interwinying his fingers tightly, knuckles turning white. He timidly elevated his gaze to meet the Director’s stare. Merlin’s beard, he hated being under such scrutiny.

 

After Graves locked eyes with Newt for a few instants, he seemed to nod to himself. “Last time you were here, some of your very illegal creatures caused quite a raucous,” the man started, all business. “The only reason you haven’t been taken in and your suitcase confiscated, is because of the Madam President’s gratitude towards the Grindelwald Case.” Newt had lowered his eyes, the mention of having his beasts taken away made him tense, discreetly bringing his case closer with a foot. “And because we are, as much as I detest to admit, in dire need of guidance,” he completed, giving a twist of lips that was, doubtlessly, a smirk.

 

“Well…” Newt murmured in the tense silence, since Graves gave the impression of being in no hurry to talk. “It will be a pleasure to help MACUSA, and I always look forward to assist an animal in need,” he confessed sheepishly, grinning slightly.

 

Graves’ impassivity made him stop smiling, he cleaned his throat. “But, it is a given that I can not part with my creatures,” he looked up suddenly, a solemn expression making his eyes harden. “Those are all animals that needed a good home, and I intend to keep providing it to them,” he finished, no space for arguments.

 

The Director took in the wizard, considering. Newt forced himself to maintain eye contact, he had an obligation to his babies.

 

Graves smiled suddenly, approving. He offered his hand. “Of course, Mr. Scamander,” at Newt’s surprised face, he shrugged. “Your reputation precedes you,” they shook hands, the magizoologist going through the motions mechanically. The Director grinned conspiratorially, taking advantage of Newt’s undivided attention. “Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security,” he introduced himself.

 

Newt looked bashfully down, but he was smiling, too.

 

o.O.o

 

The traffickers had Newt chained in heavy iron links. At least they had returned his coat, pockets filled with stones as it was. Unnecessary, if the magizoologist was asked.

 

They threw him in the fast and deep waters of the river, infested with creatures undiscovered, and that would never be known.

 

He held his breathing and started counting.

 

o.O.o

 

“I am certain,” Newt affirmed, indicating the photos. “It is a nundu. By the marks, it is young, and they must be containing it’s toxic breath somehow”.

 

“How did they subdue it?!” One of the aurors fearfully asked. “The last one had to be restrained by a hundred witches and wizards and not all of them made it!”

 

Newt pursed his lips grimly. “It took a hundred people to kill a nundu,” he corrected, moving the picture closer. “It must have taken twice as many to keep it alive and force it to do their bidding”.

 

The room fell silent.

 

“Any leads on their base?” Graves inquired after the situation had been made clear to all.

 

The Director had called an immediate meeting with the aurors working day in and out on the case. They had reported the events to Newt - twice already two aurors teams had been wiped out by some beast while investigating shady business - and produced the images of the mangled bodies.

 

Newt had witnessed first hand what an enraged nundu could do. Though the creature, in the magizoologist’s opinion, was the least of their concerns. Humans were, afterall, the only beings capable of the cruelty that every picture showed Newt.

 

The unmistakable fact that someone was using a magical creature to create carnage should be worrying enough. The intuition that it had something to do with Grindelwald just made Newt despair more.

 

“Mr. Scamander,” a hand brushed his elbow to gain his attention. The Director had his brow furrowed in concern. “Will you be able to deal with the nundu?”

 

“Certainly,” he responded without hesitation. “I will do my best to insure its safety and everyone else’s”, he earnestly informed the aurors present, looking the closest to their eyes he could stand.

 

“Its safety?” Someone incredulously cotted, making Newt tense at the affrontional tone. “It has already killed five of our people!” The wizard, Newt couldn’t remember his name, cried indignantly. “They were good aurors and had families!” Some aurors looked down, grieve still fresh in air. “The beast should be put down, it is nothing but a mindless monster!” A few heads bobbed in agreement.

 

Across the five continents, hundred countries and thousand languages, Newt had heard those same words countless times. He was never ready for the incandescent resentfulness that burned at his throat on behalf of the creatures. Indignation so strong he could barely keep from stunning the people who said such words and then showing them that animals were more sensitive, more intelligent, _better_ than most human beings.

 

“Auror Abernathy,” Director Graves called before Newt could unleash his own kind of cold fury. “Your concern is valid,” the wizard conceded, much to Newt’s disappointment. “However, we have called a specialist in to deal with this kind of circumstances,” he concluded firmly, his dark gaze sweeping around the room, meeting everyone’s eyes with intensity that made many turn away, Abernathy included.

 

The aurors were soon dismissed with instructions to gather as much information they could. Newt and Graves soon stood alone, the still pictures, just like muggle photographs, gleaming their horrendous sights at them.

 

“I am putting my team's life in your hands, Mr. Scamander,” the Director gravely informed, looming over the wizard. “I need you to prepare a briefing about what should be expected from the beast,” he instructed, as Newt kept his gaze down. “And what should be expected from us, as well,” he added, much to the magizoologist's astonishment. People rarely thought about means to put animals at ease, as opposed to how enforce the creatures’ compliance.

 

His surprise must have shown, because Graves raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You are the specialist, Mr. Scamander,” he reasoned, attempting eye contact that Newt allowed in sporadic glances. “I intend to take advantage of your presence here,” he murmured lowly, taking a step closer.

 

Newt smiled sweetly, glad that for the first time an authority figure had been the one reaching out.

 

“Please, do,” he earnestly responded, as a gasp was heard from the door.

 

The wizards turned to Tina, who had a scandalized look on her face as she analysed the Director open mouthed.

 

“What is it, Goldstein?” Graves inquired, a dark scowl taking his expression as he stepped away from the magizoologist.

 

Tina gaped for a few seconds more, looking between her boss’ displeased face and Newt’s confusioned expression.

 

“Nothing, sir,” she ended up saying.

 

“Good,” Graves nodded, clapping Newt's shoulder gently in goodbye. “Have a report done by the end of the day, please?” And walked out.

 

He stops on the way to murmur something to Tina, making her close her mouth with a click.

 

o.O.o

 

His lungs burned and his vision darkened, not that he could see anything in the turved waters.

 

He sank to the muddy bottom, the chains and rocks preventing him from being dragged by the current. He closed his eyes and waited.

 

At least he had his coat.

 

Suddenly, he felt something grabbing for his hair. It could have been any kind of debris floating in river, but the constant tugging and pin pricks on his cheek let him know that a creature had landed on him.

 

Opening his eyes, he found the bowtruckle fighting the current by clinging to his skin.

 

Newt felt despair in finding the insect there. He would be dragged by the river and lost forever. The wizard didn't have hands or wand to save the creature, and there was still some time left.

 

Newt prayed the insect could hold on until then.

 

The bowtruckle, however, showed no fear as he made his way down to the chains keeping Newt captive. The wizard shook his head, trying to make the beast return to the surface, even though it was probably too late.

 

The insect startled when he could find no locket to be picked.

 

The creature turned mournful eyes at the wizard.

o.O.o

 

“Stay back,” Newt commanded clearly and calm. He sank to the floor slowly, keeping his eyes on the agitated nundu in the corner.

 

The aurors hesitated a moment. “Do as he says,” Graves ordered, much firmer than Newt, but just as calm.

 

The feline was just as magnificent as the one Newt guarded in his case, but infinite times more scarred and eyes impossibly wild. It was chained to the wall, some of its thorns broken, wounds still bleeding on its flanks. Bones could almost be seen through thin skin.

 

Newt took a cautious half step closer. “Hello,” he whispered, putting away his wand.

 

The nundu attacked.

 

It jumped with ferocity, mouth armed with daggers-like teeth and claws longers than Newt's fingers.

 

The chain kept it - she, a small part of Newt's brain realised- back, doubtlessly choking the feline. A startled cry from one of the aurors and a careless curse turned everything into caos.

 

The chain shattered.

 

o.O.o

 

The bowtruckle tried to hold himself, but with hooks damaged from many forceful extractions, the waters would soon take him away.

 

Newt hoped time enough had passed.

 

The wizard thought they would be doomed. The instinct to suck in a mouthful of water into his lungs growing until he could no longer keep it from happening. He opened his mouth.

 

He landed on his own camp, drenched, chainless and accompanied by a bowtruckle.

 

Beast and wizard took large gulps of air. After he was done panting, he turned to the still flabbergasted insect. “Portkey,” he triumphantly announced, laying his lips on his lapel foundly. “Always takes me back after a few hours.”

 

....

 

Traffickers bound, crates opened, chains broken.

 

Newt sat with some of the most debilitated animals. He mended bones and closed skin; grew feathers and nurtured scales; brought water and a kind hand.

 

The bowtruckle observed him from an upturned cage, only his head moving to always keep Newt under his watch.

 

When the last animal stood up and left the illegal camp, it was high noon in the forest.

 

Newt turned to the insect, offering an arm again. “Come on, then,” he repeated, with a gentle smile. The bowtruckle approached, but he hesitated, throwing a glance at the bound and silenced poachers.

 

Had Newt been anyone else, he might have thought the insect still loyal to the hunters.

 

He was not.

 

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “I am not angry, it wasn’t your fault,” he whispered, keeping the offered arm up. A few moments passed.

 

The bowtruckle jumped at Newt, gripping his lapel as if it was a life saver and blowing a raspberry in the poachers’ direction. The wizard laughed.

 

“I see that’s a thing with you, Pickett.”

 

o.O.o

 

Curses and spells started flying. Newt didn’t even attempt to control the situation, he knew neither beast nor men will listen to him now.

 

Graves had been the first to approach the magizoologist after the nundu was set loose. He had apparated next to Newt, and disapparated with him at a safer distance. He turned to join the aurors casting hex after hex at the animal.

 

“Wait!” Newt grabbed his sleeve. The aurors had no chance of winning unscared, and the nundu practically had a death sentence, but he still had to try. “Tell them to evacuate! They are just putting themselves at risk!”

 

Graves was ready to respond, but a scream turned their attention back to the conflict.

 

The nundu had someone in her jaws, crunching bones and spilling blood, disregarding every sort of magic being thrown at her and ignoring her victim’s screams. Nundus had a specially magic resistant fur, making them virtually impossible to damage by most spells.

 

Newt apparated next to her.

 

“It’s quite enough of that,” he admonished. His sudden appearance startled her enough to let go of the unconscious auror. A completely healthy nundu would have been able to kill the man before he could have uttered a sound. That spoke of how debilitated she was.

 

Not even a second later, she jumped Newt.

 

He put an arm in front of him and made no move to prevent her teeth from sinking in his flesh, just bracing against her weight to kept from being toppled over by her.

 

He made no sound, even as his bones broke under the pressure, or as his muscles tore under her fangs. Her front paws were braced on his shoulders, digging in his coat and piercing superficially his skin. They had become quite dull after intense use and no care whatsoever.

 

Newt kept his gaze calm and gentle as he made eye contact with the pregnant nundu. “Hello, girl,” he whispered in the sudden silence that fell. Distantly, he could hear Graves utter firm commands, telling the aurors to ‘move the fuck back, Merlin’s balls’, but he ignored them.

 

The nundu growled low in her throat, her instincts in conflict. Nundus were prone to subdue and kill anything that resisted them, like all major predators. However, direct eye contact was established between family members to strength bounds.

 

He would know, as he had stared at Eva’s eyes for hours.

 

She had neither the signal to kill the prey, nor understood why a human had locked eyes with her.

 

Up close, Newt could see with sadness that her poison gland had been removed, explaining the lack of venomous gas. It used to be localized in the area that inflated, and its removal was also responsible for her inability to puff her neck.

 

“They did a number on you, didn’t they?” He sadly mused, slowly bringing his other hand to lay on her muzzle.

 

She growled again, but did nothing else. He petted her softly for a few instants. “I have a home for you and your cubs, if you are interested,” he genially commented. At his confusing lack of reaction to having his arm chewed off, she slowly let go. The wild and desperate look had also diminished, exhaustion starting to wear her down.

 

He sat on floor again and this time she copied him.

 

He ignored the agony his arm was in, the disconcerting feeling of his blood scaping and his flesh hanging awkwardly. He quietly talked to the nundu about her future home: plenty of space to run and jump; tall grass to roll into; clean breeze to feel against her fur; delicious lambs, porks and beef he would provide her.

 

After each word, she lowered herself more and more, until she lay in an drained pile at his lap, his fingers carding through short fur, scratching behind her ears. She raised her head minimally, licking at the blood covered arm in mournful apology. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “I’m not angry, it wasn’t your fault”. Her head fell again.

 

She was asleep, probably for the first time in many days.

 

“I need my suitcase, please,” he politely required, keeping his focus on the beast. He didn’t look up as his solicitation was met, nor as he transferred the nundu to an isolated habitat he had prepared. He hadn’t counted on cubs, and the excitement at the chance to observe maternal care first handed made him grin at the closest person.

 

“She is pregnant!” He exclaimed to Graves. “I was never able to approach cubs, their mothers are quite vicious, but in the case I think I will manage to observe them!” He stood and promptly got dizzy. Newt would have fallen had the Director not supported him.

 

“That was the most stupid thing I have ever seen,” the man informed, as he apparated them to MACUSA’s medical center. “And the most incredible as well,” he finished with eyes filled with warmth and admiration. “You are one of a kind, Mr. Scamander”.

 

“Newt,” the wizard, still high on the idea of kittens, proposed. “Please, call me Newt,” he smiled brightly at the other man.

 

Graves cleaned his throat and glanced away. “Only if you call me Percival.”

 

A gasp drew their attention back to Tina, who stared at them open mouthed. “Not again,” Graves murmured, though Newt ignored him in favor of lying on the cot the medwizard had brought him.

o.O.o

 

“Tell me, Mr. Scamander,” the bi color-eyed man started. “Do you not think I have a valid point?”

 

Newt stretched against the ropes binding his hands behind the chair. No real intention of breaking away.

 

“Mr. Grindelwald,” the magizoologist answered, eyes over the other's shoulder. “You may be the very best at convincing people to join your cause,” he conceded. “But there is hardly anything you could do to make me agree with your ways”.

 

The dark wizard clicked his tongue, as if disappointed with a misbehaving pet. “Ah, Dumbledore has his claws too deep in you,” he lamented, standing up to round the magizoologist.

 

 “You would be a marvelous addition,” he commented, laying his hands on Newt's shoulders.

 

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Newt asked, something he had been wondering for days.

 

Grindelwald went still.

 

“Oh,” he murmured, gripping Newt harder. “I was counting on that,” he shared with a rumbling chuckle, lips ghosting the magizoologist's ear. “Imagine that: a hole litter of nundus at my disposition, to train and tame as I see fit.”

 

Newt stared ahead, hands closed in bloodless fists.

 

o.O.o

 

Jessica gave birth to three premature cubs.

 

Newt named them after constellations, because they were the brightness in dark times.

 

“You shouldn’t chew that, Pavo,” he warned the small nundu. Though premature, they were still relatively health, considering the state their mother was in.

 

Newt pulled his sleeve away from toothless mouths, a difficult feat, considering he had two kittens on his lap, attempting to eat whatever they saw. “No, Columba,” he laughed, as she started nibbling on his vest.

 

Jessica lazily rose her head from where it had been resting on Eva’s torso. Luckily, the nundus had become good friends quickly, and were raising the cubs together. That made Newt quite relieved. He had feared the kittens would be lacking in educative communication, considering their mummy lacked the puffer neck, a nundu’s main form of warning.

 

Another small kitten rolled from somewhere over Eva, landing on a daze next to Newt. “Careful, Corvus,” he chuckled, helping the beast to his unstable legs.

 

Suddenly, the two adult nundus growled, standing up with ears pulled back, Eva’s neck inflated, Jessica’s fangs glinting.

 

Newt turned to see Graves frozen close to the cabin, eyes fixed on their direction. “Hello, Percival,” Newt said, moving cubs aside to stand. “I’m terribly sorry,” he apologized, brushing leaves and fur from his trousers and sushing the overprotective mothers with careful hands on their flanks. “I’m late, aren’t I?” He gave a last patt to each nundu and approached the still silent man.

 

Graves observed transfixed the beasts. He had been inside the case, making sure Newt had at least some sort of supervision, but he hadn’t had the chance to see the cubs or the nundus.

 

“I would introduce you,” Newt confessed to the ground. “But recent parentes are quite nervous around strangers,” he informed with regret. A hand was laid on his shoulder. “Marvelous,” the director said.

 

Newt smiled, nodding. “Yes, they are.” He elevated his gaze, and met Graves’ brown eyes, focused only at him. The magizoologist had trouble reading people and he knew he had very different priorities; he insulted people easily and didn’t noticed when he was irritating them; he mistook gestures and words.

 

But he was not that oblivious.

 

“Oh,” he murmured with a shy smile, flushing. “A few things might make more sense now,” he confessed, slowly bringing a hand to Graves’ lapel, tracing the stitching gently. The director exhaled, moving the hand from Newt’s shoulder to his neck.  “Not unwanted, I hope?” He tried.

 

Newt met his eyes. “Not at all,” and lowered his mouth over the man’s lips.

 

o.O.o

 

“I heard a lot about that suitcase of yours,” the dark wizard genially informed, pressing on Newt's shoulder in a mockery of massage. “While I find the technicalities and the beasts themselves quite fascinating,” he ran a hand through ginger locks, “it would be for naught without the man behind it.”

 

Newt tensed, but said nothing more. Grindelwald was well aware of his philosophies.

 

The dark wizard raised his wand in Newt's peripheral vision. He held his breath.

 

Suddenly, Newt's coat appeared on the man's hands.

 

“I could recognise Albus’ portkey spell anywhere, Mr. Scamander,” he tutted. Blimey, he had been relying on it.

 

Newt keeps counting.

 

“That was a gift,” he mumbled, though Grindelwald heard, by the ententairned look he was given.

 

The dark wizard made for the door behind Newt in measured paces. “I will let you sit on that for the night.”

 

He had almost reached the exit, when he stopped dead cold.

 

“Ah,” he quickly returned, showing Newt a squirming green stick.

 

“Leave him alone!” Newt immediately demanded, eyes fixed on Pickett. He had hoped the insect would stay concealed, but Grindelwald wasn't an ordinary wizard.

 

To the magizoologist surprise, the dark wizard passed him the beast without fuss. Pickett attached himself to Newt, holding on his shirt with gangly legs and hiding behind his ear, distressed squeaks breaking Newt's heart. Wizard and beast gazed distrustfully at the dark wizard.

 

“You expect me to be an unreasonable and cruel man,” he declared with a shrug and self deprecating smile. “Well, to some measure, I am,” he laughed with a twisted smirk. He took a step closer, bringing his face breaths away from Newt’s. He took Newt's face in his hands, forcing their eyes to meet.

 

“You will also come to know me as a generous master, Newt.”

 

o.O.o

 

The relationship had been a somewhat new endeavor to Newt, considering he had never been in an official one.

 

Always too awkward, too unsociable; not enough eye contact, not relatable enough.

 

So it came as a surprise to him to be enjoying himself so much. Percival was attentive and patient, without being overbearing or patronizing. He understood Newt's passion about his creatures would blind him to many things - like appointments and, once, accorded dates - and seeked to accommodate him as much as possible.

 

More often than not, they would spend time in the suitcase.

 

That made Newt quite guilty. He was still composing his book, editing not done yet and adding a whole new section about social behaviors of nundus, so he didn't give Graves the attention he thought the director deserved.

 

Besides, other people usually went to dinners and shows together, right? Newt was aware that Graves worked long and hard hours, so the man usually enjoyed a quiet night and lazy weekends. The magizoologist also knew that crowded places were as uncomfortable to him as they were for Graves. Furthermore, Percival always seemed relaxed after spending an evening in the calm atmosphere Newt had put body and soul to create in the case, being ready to turn in at reasonable hours, with slow kisses and a soothed sleep.

 

With a start, Newt realised he was being silly.

 

He and Percival weren't, after all, other people.

 

“What is it?” Graves asked, seeing the entertained smile blooming on Newt's face for no apparent reason. He and the director sat on opposed sides of the couch in Pervival's apartment, legs intertwined and papers on their laps.

 

The magizoologist grinned even more, putting his notes aside and moving to straddle the man's legs. He brought their foreheads together so he didn't have to look the other in the eye, and framed his neck with gentle hands.

 

“I realised something.” He whispered, as if sharing a secret. Graves cleaned his throat and brought his hands to Newt's waist. “What?” He inquired hoarsely.

 

Desperate pounding came from the door.

 

Newt and Graves were up and with wands drawn immediately, slipping back into their holes with ease.

 

“Director Graves!” Came Tina's voice through the door. “Please, It's me! It's quite urgen-”

 

Percival opened the door with a wave and Tina stepped inside promptly. She froze when she located Newt, vestless, coatless and barefoot. Her mouth hung open.

 

“Merlin's beard, Goldstein!” Graves snapped. “We've been together for weeks and you still gape everytime you see us! Get a grip, woman!”.

 

“Yes, sir!” She almost saluted, closing her mouth and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for arriving like this, but a situation has arisen on the west side.” She explained in a professional tone. “There was an explosion and the first aurors reported wand fighting. We suspect they are Grindelwald's followers”.

 

Graves was the Director of Magical Security as he laid his orders on Tina and sent her ahead. He went into the bedroom and minutes later he exited dressed in his armour.

 

Newt approached him with a somber expression and soft eyes, adjusting the suit and tie that were already perfectly set. “Good luck.” Was all he said.

 

Percival nodded, eyes shadowed by the terrors of the past. “I will see you later.” He promised, kissing Newt's hands and disapparating.

 

Pickett rose from his breast pocket, grumbling at the loud noise. “Sorry for waking you, Pickett.” He moved to the kitchen to prepare a teapot. “Hungry? Let’s find something to snack on”.

 

….

 

Newt woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed, save Dougal's eyes shining in the darkness.

 

The demiguise cuddled closer. Newt threw a careful arm over him and went back to sleep.

 

….

 

Newt took a deep breath in the crisp morning, watching birds fly by and early risers like him moving about.

 

Central Park was not the kind of wilderness he was used to. With pavemented paths, comfortable banks and trimmed trees. Everything clearly made by the man for the man. Tamed.

 

Regardless, designed landscapes and singing of domesticated species was better than automobile fumes and crowd's noise. Besides, as the only source of foliage and unpopulated area in miles, many animals tended to take residence on the least frequented passages of the park.

 

Including magical creatures.

 

He had considered staying home editing, but felt too jittery to stay cooped up inside. Or going to MACUSA to seek news about last night's incident, but figured Tina and Percival needed their focus.

 

He kneeled with his suitcase by his side on one of the most isolated areas. There were no human tracks and only leaves and dirt paved his path, the way he prefered.

 

Newt was searching for a particular kind of rodent. There were very few informations about that species, but it was a consensus that they inhabited temperate forests curiously close to human settlements.

 

From the brief and vague description he had been able to find, Newt suspected the animal to be some distant form of squirrel, as common as those were. The possibility of a common ancestor to both magical and non-magical creatures was fascinating on itself. Had magic been a late characteristic? Or had it been basal, disappearing on modified species?

 

Newt was searching for signals of animal tracks when a familiar swishing sound followed by a loud thump put him on alert. Cautiously spying behind a tree, Newt located the person he thought to have failed all those months ago.

 

Credence laid on his hands and knees, black swirls lazily crawling over him, their negative impact on the boy shown only on his grimace, as if concentrating on staying solid pained him greatly.

 

Casting a look around them, Newt discreetly put spells close by to discourage people from approaching. As isolated it was, he didn't want any surprises from either muggles or wizards.

 

Credence slowly settled down through gasping breaths, smoke vanishing by force of will. The magizoologist couldn't prevent from admiring such strength.

 

Newt cleared his throat politely.

 

Credence froze, not unlike a niffler caught red handed.

 

“Hello, Credence.” Newt started lowly, still kneeling on the ground.

 

The boy turned fearful wide eyes at him, recognition shining there as he sees Newt's distinctive blue coat.

 

“It's good to see you okay.” Newt says truthfully, keeping his eyes on the boy, but not locking gazes with him.

 

Credence sits up, gaze darting around, checking for danger like a corned animal. “You may not believe me,” Newt acknowledges with a self deprecating smile. “But I have found you by serendipity herself.”

 

Credence’s brows furrowed, his eyes stopped moving, his unease as strong as before, but he was more level headed.

 

“Is that some sort of m-magic?” He hesitantly asked.

 

Newt smiled at him, setting himself more comfortably on the ground. “Some people call it that, yes.” He mused conversationally. “But I don't think it's the kind of magic you are talking about.” Newt raised his eyes to gauge Credence's reaction. “It's more like luck.”

 

The boy huffed, to Newt's surprise. “More like bad luck.” Credence's eyes widened even more, just as surprised at having spoken.

 

The boy was much calmer now, though still glancing around and avoiding eye contact as much as Newt. “Can I get closer, Credence?”

 

He seemed tempted to deny, but after a furtive glance at Newt and some time considering, he clearly steeled himself and nodded.

 

“Thank you,” he responded sincerely,  crawling a step closer and waiting. Credence relaxes minimally. Silence falls for instants.

 

“So, how do you feel about tea?” Newt inquires with an open expression. Credence hesitates, looking at Newt unbelieving. The british shrugs with a smile.

 

….

 

Newt power walked through MACUSA’s halls. Now he quite understood why people here were always rushing one place to another, if what they had to do was as urgent as Newt’s mission. Pickett grumbleed from his breast pocket at all the movement going on. The magizoologist sushed him gently.

 

He was on Tina’s and Percival’s floor - strangely vacant of personnel - when he located both exiting an office in a hurry and deep conversation.

 

When Percival saw him, the man dropped the file he had been holding, staring frozen at Newt. Tina immediately looked at the magizoologist and practically ran at him, throwing her arms around him.

 

“Newt!” She almost shouted in his ear, as he tries to keep them both standing. She sounded relieved beyond reason. Tina stepped back as quickly as she had hugged him. Percival was right besides them, intense gaze racking his form head to toes.

 

“Where were you?” He finally asked, intrangelly motionless.

 

“At the park,” Newt answered confused. “I have something to tell you.” He said gripping his suitcase tighter.

 

“So you didn't know about the breaking in.” Percival ignored him, looking closely at Newt.

 

“What?” The magizoologist exclaimed, realization dawning on him. He had apparated out of the apartment before six in the morning, now it was evening. He had stayed most of the day in the suitcase, burrowed between foliage and bushes.

 

He didn't leave a note, and was glad for it.

 

“Step into my office.” Was the formal request Graves relayed, strangely aloof. “Goldstein, you should call off the searching parties.” He ordered without a glance in her direction, attention firmly on Newt.

 

She left with a nod and tiny smile at Newt.

 

Arms were around him as soon as the door closed. Newt returned the embrace firmily. They stayed silent together for long instants.

 

“What happened?” The magizoologist asked, hand in Percival's hair. The man sighd deeply, face still on Newt's neck. “Someone managed to bypass my wards,” he explained. “I was immediately aware, but when we got there, no one was found.” _Not even you._

 

Newt nodded, tightening his arms a little. “Anything taken? Any suspects?” He probed carefully. Graves let him go slowly, keeping his hands on his shoulders. “We know who is responsible,” he admitted gravelly. The haunted look he casted to the side was enough for Newt.

 

Grindelwald would have know Percival was not home, since the man enjoyed walking to MACUSA. And neither Newt nor Graves had made secret their sharing the apartment. He was after the magizoologist.

 

The magizoologist ran his hands along his neck and arms soothingly, thoughtful. Graves had not demanded he be careful, nor had he prohibited him free circulation. Besides, the Director would never do that, for he understood Newt's nature and needs.

 

Both were aware that eventually the british would travel again. Newt knew he would always come back, but Percival feared he wouldn’t, by the job's fatality, or by being done with the relationship.

 

“I think I need to go back to England,” Newt said, looking down. Percival froze again, hands flexing on Newt’s shoulders. He suddenly let go. “I see,” he emotionlessly said, stepping away. “It makes sense,” he started reasoning. “He ran from Europe for a reason. Your brother is also there, you should be fin-” Newt silenced him with light lips.

 

“I will only deliver the manuscript to my editor,” he laughed, gripping the man’s lapels to keep him close. “No more than a month,” he promised. “That should give you some time to focus on him and not on worrying about someone who needs no worrying over.” Percival expression seemed to disagree, but he kept silence, in favor of smiling minimally.

 

“What did you have to tell me?” Percival recollected, tight expression gone. Though the dark circles under his eyes and slightly lowered shoulders belied his tiredness on working almost 24 hours without pause.

 

“Oh, terribly sorry,” he murmured, setting his suitcase down, undoing the string and opening the lid. “I found Credence. I thought you ought to take his statement. I promised him we wouldn’t arrest him, the poor boy wasn’t at fault.” When Graves didn’t answer nor made a move to follow Newt into the case, the magizoologist searched the director’s expression. “What?”

 

“Credence Barebone?” Graves questioned, unbelieving. “The obscurus? I thought our aurors had killed him months ago!” He racked a hand through his hair, mucking up his already fraying hair style. “This city is a mess,” he murmured to himself.

 

The door burst open. 

 

“Director! We-” Tina caught sight of Newt on his knees before Graves. She gaped a second, before forcibly closing her eyes and mouth, and stepping out of the office, closing the door gently. A polite knock was heard.

 

“Merlin’s balls,” the director sighed, while Newt smiled bashfully down.

 

o.O.o

 

“I have to say, Newt.” Grindelwald conversationally mused. “This is very unbecoming for someone like you.” He stretched lazily on the chair, popping bones satisfyingly. He chuckled, lowly, shaking his head. “Actually, this is just like you.”

 

“Do tell, Mr. Grindelwald,” Newt wheezed breathless, letting the aftershocks of the _Cruciatus_ wash over him. Pickett had long ago burrowed himself somewhere on Newt’s pants, to keep as far away from the screams and the wand point as he could. The wizard did not resent the decision.

 

“Going through such torment,” he replied, giving no mind to the pained state the other was in. “I have the means to help all magical creatures,” he boasted, opening his arms as if to show the size of his power.

 

Newt had longer arms.

 

“The Statute of Secrecy puts all beasts at jeopardy. The first order is killing them on sight, after all. No one even tries to understand them, just you.” He inclined forward, bracing himself on Newt’s knees. The magizoologist didn’t even have energy to try to pull away. “I could help you protect all magical creatures.” He repeated lowly, squeezing the wizard.

 

“What about non-magical animals?” Newt inquired suddenly. The dark wizard looked taken back, bewilderment on his features. “What about them?”

 

The magizoologist smirked to the side, licking at the blood a cutting curse had left behind. “The ecosystem in much more complex than just a couple of species isolated,” he lectured. “Even if you were to change the laws on every country, to build reserves for the most endangered specimens and educate every witch and wizard about the intrinsic value of all magical animals,” Newt cited, raising his tired eyes to meet Grindelwald’s. “What good would it do if not all components of the system were there? You spoke of protecting magical beasts, but the non-magical are just as important for that.” he earnestly explained. Seeing the dark wizard’s attention on him, he decided to make a bet.

 

“Most of magical creatures do not have enough individuals to maintain a viable population. They are fated to end.” He kept going. “The only way those species have been able to keep going for millennia is through interbreeding with non-magical animals that are so similar, they  produce heirs fit for reproduction.” Grindelwald’s expression closed off immediately. Another curse hit Newt on the chest.

 

“I will not hear another word!” He raged, standing up aggressively as Newt curled on himself. “I was going to aid you, Newt.” He paced, shaking his head and waving his wand eloquently. “But you're a fool! No, I can’t have you as a willing ally.” He stopped in front of the magizoologist, gripping his neck and making their eyes meet. “But I will have you as a useful tool,” he lowered his wand to the other’s neck. “Where is your suitcase?”

 

Newt laughed, to the dark wizard’s surprise. The magizoologist felt Pickett pinching his calf warningly, but gave him no mind. They were already screwed, anyway.

 

“Now you are starting to make the relevant questions.”

 

o.O.o

 

Newt, Percival and Tina exited the shed in the case to Credence drinking tea with Dougal. 

 

The auros froze at the sight the demiguise made, holding his tea cup gingerly and sipping it. Credence was copying the creature with a small smile. He had been down there long enough to experience the wonder, fright, surprise and amazement that every visitor was prone to feel. Now he just seemed glad to be in a safe place with a hot drink in hands.

 

Credence was thinner than Tina remembered, with eyes somber and shoulders curved as much as she last saw him. His hair was longer too, though the way it shined and seemed smooth told her Newt had provided the boy a bath.

 

“Oh, you are teaching him wrong, Dougal.” Newt gently admonished, approaching the pair with no hesitation. Credence’s eyes fixed on the wizard immediately and, instead of flinching or tensing as Tina expected, he beamed. “Newt!”

 

The magizoologist sat himself on the ground next to them. A flat stone made as makeshift table where cups, teapot, sugar cubes and cream rested, and an old cloth served as the only protection against the ground. “Hold it like this, Credence.” He kindly instructed, grabbing himself a cup, showing the boy how the small finger had to stay upright. “Dougal insists on holding like that, appaling, really,” he joked. Credence copied and grinned when he succeeded. “Thank you.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Newt distractionaly said, holding his cup to Dougal so the demiguise could pour him the tea. “I brought the auros we talked about,” he informed, as if a second though. The boy tensed, but the wizard said nothing, just adding sugar and cream to his drink.

 

Credence turned to Tina and Percival, clearly doing a double take when his eyes landed on Graves. “You d-didn’t say M-mr. Graves would be one of t-them.” He shakilly commented, quickly turning his eyes to his tea.

 

“Worrying means you suffer twice,” Newt responded with a gentle smile. “I promise you, Credence, Director Graves is one of the most honorable man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. He will help to the best of his abilities.” He earnestly said, laying a calming hand on the boy’s as they shook slightly. “I trust him.” He finished, trying to catch Credence’s eyes with his own.

 

Credence took some instants to calm himself, before nodding. Tina and Percival approached, sitting on the ground, not nearly as graceful as Newt had made it look.

 

….

 

“I’m sorry!” Credence sobbed, clutching at himself as dark swirls crawled from him. “I didn't mean to, I’m sorry!” He kept repeating in distress.

 

Graves seemed to have some choice words, but Tina's hand on his shoulder made him wait.

 

“Of course you didn't,” Newt genially agreed, holding his bleeding arm close. “You are a very sweet person, Credence, I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose,” he approached the curled boy.

 

Credence was shaking his head, so Newt wouldn't step closer to him, but the magizoologist would have none of it. “It's alright, I am not angry,” he laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, showing no reaction as the vile black smoke curled around his fingers. “It wasn't your fault, I forgive you,” and he proceeded to embrace Credence in a warm hug.

 

He resisted a moment, tears running down his face and mumbling about how he would hurt Newt again, but the comfort of another's gentle touch had him grabbing the wizard back desperately.

 

Maybe the interview had come across a bit too strong, Newt guiltily mused. He didn't remember the exact words, but knew they had been talking about the false Graves. The boy grew agitated to the point of  turning intangible and lashing out, lost to painful memories.

 

Percival had those moments to, but he wasn't an obscurus.

 

Newt kept shushing and comforting the boy until no more black curls came from him, and even after that he maintained his arms firmly around him, running his hand through long disheveled locks.

 

“You should see to your arm,” Credence croaked some time later, gazing remorsefully at the dripping blood. “That is a good idea,” he agreed. He turned to Graves as he stood up, but did not move away from the boy. “Percival?” He inquired, offering his back to the man.

 

The director needed no other prompt. He approached and helped Newt out of his coat with the gentlest hands. He then took the mangled arm in his care, rolling up the soiled sleeve, careful as to not let the cloth stick no any of the cuts there. He casted cleaning and healing charms, running his wand in calm motions, soothing the pain with a lovingly touch.

 

Newt could have done all of that alone, both wizards were aware. The magizoologist had become an expert in the art of healing during his travels. Such display was done for Credence's benefit.

 

Look at this man, Newt wanted to say. Look at him, see for yourself he is so much kinder and better than the twisted copy.

 

It seemed to work, since the boy looked down in shame, tense back relaxing as he cleaned his tears.

 

“Here,” Tina offered a handkerchief with kind eyes. He took it with a slight blush.

 

….

 

They sent Credence on Queenie's way after the interrogation was done. Newt smuggled them both out of MACUSA on his suitcase, making sure they arrived safely the Goldstein's residence. He had been certain to exalt the woman’s trustworthiness to Credence.

 

He had also pulled her aside to emphasize how important it was that she did not let Credence know she read minds.

 

At least not before telling him in civilized conversation, and not out of the blue as she was prone to do.

 

“Sooner or later he will have to give his testimony in front of a jury,” Percival warned from behind his desk, nursing a steaming cup of coffee. From his face at every sip, he much prefered something stronger.

 

Newt hummed concomitantly, as he paged through his notes. He had to sort them out before arriving in London. “Let him heal before throwing him to the wampus,” he replied, uncharastically bitter. “You saw what could happen when he experiences flashbacks, and the others will not be as understanding as we are,” he finished, making notes.

 

“As _you_ are,” Percival corrected, with eyes made soft by concern. Newt stopped writing, looking at the man’s hairline.

 

“You allowed me to keep a very illegal suitcase filled with undocumented beasts, Percival.” Newt listed, standing up. “You didn't take Credence in when we both knew the law demanded you do it.” He stalked closer, much like those nundus of his. “And don't think I didn't notice you turning the other way about Queenie's sweetheart,” he sat himself on the desk between the man's legs.

 

The Director cleaned his throat and examined his coffee. “Goldstein is trustworthy and I have no business in people's private life,” he started defending himself. “Credence is, technically, under MACUSA's custody, since she works here,” he paused thouthfully, before putting his cup aside and framing Newt's face, pulling their foreheads together. “You are the only one who I don't have an excuse for,” he admitted, as they shared grins between their lips.

 

….

 

Newt procured ship's ticket for the very next morning.

 

He chose such transportation, because he is a procrastinator about writing and will need the 24 days trip to finish.

 

He had said his goodbyes to the Goldsteins, Credence, Jacob and Percival the night before. Everyone had been busy with their work and he insisted they not see him off. Even though their desire to do so warmed him greatly inside.

 

He is strolling along the harbour when he sees suspicious activity on the corner to his left. Newt keeps going calmly. He enters a muggle office, passing people and merchandize, and exits through another door. He walks up his ship's plank, shoulders relaxed and face turned to the sunlight that shyly reaches the city.

 

He starts to explore deeper into the ship, walking through doorways each time smaller and fewer people around. He is certain no one is following him.

 

A silent curse catches him on the back. He falls, petrified, on the metal floor.

 

“We meet again, Mr. Scamander,” Grindelwald purrs, kneeling next to the magizoologist and brushing strawberry locks from his forehead. “I believe we have unended business.”

 

Newt starts counting.

 

o.O.o

 

“I have been here for five days, have I not?” Newt inquiried suddenly. Grindelwald turns admired eyes at him. He thought the magizoologist far too gone to stream sentences together. “Why would you like to know? Your ship would take more than a fortnight to arrive, no one will miss you until then.” He shrugged, circling the seated wizard.

 

The dark wizard could not quite place Newt. He felt pain, yet he showed no fear. He endured, as if in wait.

 

Grindelwald had taken his coat, what else could there be?

 

Blinded by uncertainty, he started another sequence of curses and hexes, each spell fusing with the next. He felt like time was running out. How was that possible?! Newt was the one bound at his mercy, depending on his wim to live.

 

A shrill noise sounded from his pocket. His wards had been breached.

 

Grindelwald snapped his fingers, and one of his comrades immediately entered the room. He seemed desperate. “Master! We are being attacked!”

 

“Yes, I realised that,” he dryly pointed. “Who is-”

 

A thundering roar echoed. The dark wizards freezed.

 

“You know,” Newt conversationally started, standing up, the ropes falling slack from his hands. “The suitcase was a present, too.” With his wand in hands, he disapparated.

 

Grindelwald did not have time to muse too much about such daring escape nor ominous words, for a prowling nundu, bigger, healthier and stronger than the one he had had subdued, stalked into the room.

 

The dark wizard disapparated to his comrade’s head rolling on the ground, expression carved forever in terrorized surprise.

 

….

 

Newt secured Dougal closer to himself, relief making his legs weak. Pickett chearped in greeting the other beast, happiness at seeing someone else than their captor making him forget his shyness. The magizoologist was just thankful the spells keeping the bowtruckle out of people’s mind worked on Grindelwald. He had no doubt he would have told the man everything had the insect been threatened.

 

But his babies were alright, they all had been found.

 

Never before had Newt been so glad his profession was dangerous enough to warrant plans for his sudden demise.

 

On the event of his capture, he had his overcoat. That would return him to safety in a few hours.

 

However, in case he is withheld access to his suitcase for four days - the longest a human can survive without water-, its location is sent to the most dependable wizard Newt has ever met.

 

“Newt!” Dumbledore was next to him, supporting the weight his legs can't stand. “Oh, I am terribly sorry, my friend.” He lowered him to the ground slowly. Newt realised he hadn't managed to disapparate to MACUSA as he intended, and seemed to be outside the galpon he had been imprisoned. Many aurors hanged about, though no one seemed to be entering the building.

 

“Newt!” Came another voice. Percival was suddenly at his side, cradling his head gently, concerned. “Your professor is as bat shit crazy as you, you lunatic!” He admonished, though his eyes shined with unspilled tears an his voice shook with emotion. “He showed up at MACUSA this morning with your suitcase saying something had happened to you,” he swallowed, searching strength to go on. “We knew it was Grindelwald.” He whispered, hands shaking. “I am so sorry,” he murmured almost inaudible.

 

Newt gripped his hands as firmly as he could, the effects of his imprisonment making themselves known as his members did not respond correctly. “It’s alright,” he faintly said, looking from his partner to his mentor. “I forgive you,” he smiled brightly. A thorny muzzle was suddenly on his cheek.

 

“Eva!” He laughed, and grimaced in pain immediately. He petted the purring nundy, giving no mind to the blood dripping from her jaws.

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore grinned. “I knew when nothing could locate you, your beasts would not disappoint.”

 

Newt froze mid scratch, turning to Percival. “You allowed him to release illicit beasts on your city?” He inquired with a bashful smile. The Director, instead of cleaning his throat and turning away, locked eyes with the magizoologist. “I would have unleashed a thousand more to find you,” he gravely responded.

 

Newt, with the last of his energy, threw his arms around Percival's neck, descending on his lips gracelessly.

 

“Newt!” Another voice called. Tina halted a moment to take in the lip-locked wizards, before kneeling and hugging the magizoologist's waist, ignoring her boss entirely.

 

“Ah, young love,” Dumbledore mused with a smirk.

 

….

 

 

“If you knew you were being followed,” Graves grinded out. “Why did you not disapparate?” Newt squirmed on the bed, wringing his hands on the sheets.

 

“Well, I have always been a chaser of the truth…” He divaged, falling silent before the serious gazes bestowed him. “I mean, I know the suitcase was hidden already - thank Merlin it wasn't loaded on a ship to asia - and I had Pickett with me, which was stupid, since something could have happened to him, but-”

 

He fell silent again when the disappointed looks turned angry. “To him-” Percival stopped, taking a deep breath and remembering who he was talking too.

 

“My friend,” Dumbledore intervened calmly, eyes twinkling. “That was very brave,” Newt kept him eyes down, waiting for the reprimal. “You ought to have been in Gryffindor!” He laughed. “But that everyone knew already.”

 

Unbelieving eyes turned to the professor. The aurors seemed to want to throttle him.

 

“Anyway,” Newt redirected, growing serious. “Let's turn to the matter at hand.”

 

All turned grave. It wasn't for nothing that Newt was bedridden on the medical center. Percival had had to step outside a moment after the list of injuries and curses had been delivered.

 

“Grindelwald still has some sort of fixation with magical beasts,” Newt said, looking pointedly at Dumbledore, whose expression was the gravest.

 

“We have to discover what he is planning, since he lost his nundu. I believe few creatures can cause as much damage as one,” Tina added, looking at Newt for reassurance. His tight lips and downcast eyes told them what they needed to know.

 

“A nundu could be the least of your problems,” the magizoologist admitted. “Humans are far worse than any animal I have ever met,” he bitterly mused.

 

Instants passed.

 

“You know I can not-” Dumbledore was promptly interrupted. “Bollocks!” Newt cursed, anger shining in his eyes, startling all present. “You are one of the most powerful wizards of our time! The reason you do nothing is because you are afraid.” He finished, locking gazes with his mentor.

 

Dumbledore remained silent, great sorrow marreing  his face. He was the first to look away. “I know you are right,” he lowly said.

 

“Do you know what he told me, right before sentencing me and Tina to die?” Newt started, intensity making his eyes feral. The professor swallowed, but remained quiet. “He spoke of the greater good, and how my releasing beasts on the city and putting everyone at risk was exactly that,” he firmly said.

 

Dumbledore’ throat bobbed again, eyes shining. “We both know he has twisted my words, Newt.” He murmured, approaching his friend and lying a calming hand on his arm when the magizoologist seemed ready to rebuke. “Regardless, I am not without guilt, for that and many other instances.” He admitted, locking gazes with Newt.

 

They stayed silent for a few seconds, until Newt nodded, turning his eyes downcast again, as Dumbledore himself raised his.

 

The tense atmosphere lighted slightly.

 

“So…” Tina started, determinate and lost in both measures. “What do we do?”

 

….

 

In the end, they did nothing, since Grindelwald was nothing if brutally eficient.

 

It was, frankly, a short sightedness on his and Dumbledores part.

 

“Well…” Newt commented to Percival, as they barricaded themselves behind desks against dragon fire. “At least we know now what he planned.”

 

The Director said nothing as he casted another shield, just turning unamused eyes at his partner.

 

The coat had stayed with Grindelwald. The coat was a portkey. The coat was a portkey to the most secure building in the United States.

 

“Why did you set it to our main floor?” Percival grinded out, sweat dripping down his forehead, his white shirt clinging attractively to his form. “I always set it to the closest place I feel the safest. You and Tina are here,” he sweetly explained, though Graves was too warm to be affected by Newt's charms.

 

He still couldn't prevent a blush that had nothing to do with the heat of the burning furniture around.

 

“Come out, Scamander!” The tight voice of Grindelwald sounded from behind the fire. “Do you not want to see my new beast?”

 

“Hungarian horntail,” Newt murmured to himself, eyes turning calculating. “Territorial, aggressive, the females quite so,” he divaged, killing the flames that caught on his shirt with a disinterested wand wave.

 

Grindelwald was accompanied by a dozen comrades, who had immediately engaged the aurors of MACUSA. For a surprise attack, the wizards and witches of the law had responded with deadly swiftness.

 

The dark wizard himself sat atop the irated dragon's back, cursed chains in his hands controlling the beast. Newt analysed the situation with grim eyes.

 

“So? What can you do about the dragon?” The director asked, after relaying barked orders to close by underlyings.

 

“I need to know its gender first.” Was Newt's leveled response, calm as if they were not under hellfire and hexes right and left. “There is little we can do until Grindelwald has fallen from his saddle.” He affirmed, as they doved behind another barricade.

 

Graves turned irritated and desperate eyes at the magizoologist. The creaking of burning wood, aurors’ and dark wizards’ screams, dragon screeches and curses echoed on their ears. It was a battlefield.

 

“You intent to wait until the man falls from his damned saddle?!” He aggressively inquired, in voice he had never before raised at his beloved Newt. “We don't have-” He started shouting at the magizoologist, but stopped when the commotion seemed to heat up.

 

Looking over the upturned desk, he saw Grindelwald picking himself up from the ground, a vicious snarl on his face as he casted curses and hexes at Dumbledore.

 

“So nice of you to join, Albus!” He taunted, as they crossed wands in a deadly dance. The pair was given a wide berth.

 

The professor did not respond. He had nothing else to say.

 

So caught up they were with their battle, they neglected the unmastered Horntail. The beast shok its great horned head, feeling its movements’ freedom. The dragon quickly realised no one was holding the chains anymore.

 

It turned its yellow eyes at the human responsible for its imprisonment.

 

Percival turned to Newt - what to say, even he wasn't sure - but found no one.

 

“Duck!” Newt apparated next to Grindelwald, grabbing the man's head and forcibly bringing him to his knees.

 

A spiky tail flew centimeters above their bended heads.

 

Newt straighted himself and, unwisely giving his back to the dark wizard, facing the dragon head on. The fights had been put on wait, as both sides had been watching mesmerised the meeting of the most powerful wizards of the era. Their eyes now were trained on Newt and the dragon.

 

The magizoologist made a chirping noise, and spread him arms at his sides, stuffing his chest.

 

The dragon stopped its feral assault, but did nothing besides looking quizzically at Newt. The wizard spread his arms even more, taking a bold step forward. The dragon inclined its head.

 

The magizoologist cursed lowly. “I need my coat, please,” he directed at the wizard behind him with a brief glance thrown over his shoulder. “If you want to live, give me my coat, please,” he politely requested again.

 

The dark wizard slowly got to his feet, eyes fixed on the looming beast, his only defense a scrawny magizoologist. He reached into his pocket and drew a small blue cloth, wordlessly engorging it into the iconic blue coat.

 

“Now help me put it on, please,” was the next request, as Newt stared the dragon down, challenging, so unlike any other interaction he has had with beasts.

 

Grindelwald hesitated, a doubtful expression taking his face. He moved quickly as the dragon breathed overheated air, annoyed.

 

The wizards and witches on the room witnessed flabbergasted as Grindelwald gentlemanly helped Newt into his coat, going as far as patting down his shoulders to set it correctly. “Thank you,” was the relieved whisper, and then the magizoologist ignored the blond and anyone else.

 

He chirped again. Instead of just raising his arms, he also grabbed the long sides of the coat, raising them like wings.

 

The wizard flapped his arms once, taking a step forward and another to the right, finishing with a graceful spin.

 

To everyone's surprise, the dragon huffed once, and copied Newt with sleek movements. When the beast was done, he chirped himself and flapped his wings. However, he did a different sequence of steps that Newt studied with attention.

 

The magizoologist copied the movements flawlessly, going as far a throwing his hair back in taunt.

 

It was then that became quite clear that Newt was dancing with the dragon.

 

Beast and wizard took turns in inventing a sequence and copying the other, each performance more complicated than the last. Between the arcs and stretches, they also occasionally squeaked at one another, mainly after a well copied sequence, as if complimenting a rival.

 

The magizoologist trembled slightly from stiff muscles and an unrested body that hadn't shaken off the effects of torture completely. He still performed perfectly.

 

The spectators watched transfixed as a death machine was turned into fluid grace by Newt's chirps and raised arms.

 

The pair seems to reach a stand still after a complicate sequence delivered by Newt involving a backflip makes the dragon whine in distress.

 

The animal tried flapping its wings to gain enough impulse to flip, but failed, crashing awkwardly to the ground. A collective breath is holden.

 

The Horntail stantood with as much dignity as it can, moving dangerously close to Newt. The wizard does not flinch nor steps away.

 

The dragon lays its head on the ground, exposing its throat to Newt with a groan. The magizoologist smiles and scratches foundly the beast. “You are a gorgeous boy, yes you are,” he murmurs.

 

So enchanting was the scene, Dumbledore's restrainment of Grindelwald passed unnoticed.

 

“Thank Merlin you ended being a male, I wasn't quite sure” Newt huffs relieved, still petting the beast. “Had you been a girl, you would just have eaten my head!”

 

Percival drags a tired hand over his face.

 

….

 

“The surprises are endless with you,” Percival murmured, arrestings, stress, reports and stitching ups later. He hugged the magizoologist closer, running a soothing hand through ginger locks.

 

Newt inspired deeply as they settled down for a well earned rest. “Nature is full of surprises.” He said sleepily, tighten the arm around Percival. Comfortable silence was maintained.

 

Graves moved restless sudentely, cleaning his throat lowly. “I am sorry for not trusting you earlier,” he apologized with great regret. “I shouldn't have snaped like-” He was silenced by soft lips that missed their mark by a few inches.

 

“There is nothing to forgive.” He muttered, and promptly fell asleep.

 

He startled Percival awake what seemed minutes later, but the sunshine filtering through the draped spoke of hours passed by.

 

“Come here you little bugger!” Graves heard from the living room, followed by a crashing sound and shattering porcelain. “After I put my hands on you, you are done!”

 

Bleary eyed, Percival slowly moved to the commotion, resting against the doorway with crossed arms as he watched the spectacle before him.

 

The niffler was at it early in the morning, apparently. The creature's purse was already stuffed with what Percival bet was the silverware.

 

Wizard and beast continued to make a mess of the apartment, overturning furniture, breaking decorative values and dropping photos and paintings.

 

Newt finally managed to grab a hold of the beast as it tried to wring itself under the bathroom's door.

 

“Aha!” He victoriously cried, overturning the niffler and shaking it until no piece of silverware or jewelery - were those his father's cufflinks? - fell out. He then brought its face level with his. “I understand they shine, but what have I told you about taking what is not ours?” He disappointed and irritated asked.

 

The animal turned mournful black eyes at the magizoologist, expression dripping regret and sweetness. Percival was well acquaintanced with similar face.

 

“No,” Newt resolutely said. “I do not forgive you,” the firmly stated. The niffler kept its mask a few seconds more, before dissolving into its common mischievous self and blowing a raspberry.

 

Against himself, Percival laughed.

 

Newt turned crimson at being caught destroying the apartment - again- but soon also dissolved into giggles.


End file.
